


Dawn & Spike Drabbles

by dreamsofspike



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:50:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9628730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike
Summary: A collection of my drabbles for Dawn and Spike from BtVS. Mostly friendship drabbles, a couple that might be relationship drabbles. Some hurt/comfort that involves other ships in a negative light.Warnings: captivity, abuse, non-con, VERY dark themes





	1. Pretty When You Cry

He doesn't know how long he's been there, chained on his knees in the Slayer's basement. At first he tried to somehow measure time by the number of visits he received from the Slayer herself and the boy, but he soon realized that was a vain effort.  
  
They might be coming once a day, as he'd originally assumed; or they might be coming once an hour. Time dragged on interminably with his sight stolen from him, unable to tell the light from the darkness. He had no way of knowing how often they might be coming.  
  
They certainly seemed to enjoy the visits.  
  
The Slayer takes her time, making sure to draw blood every session. She holds him down and makes it hurt, hissing savage threats and taunts in his ear as she imagines that she's taking back from him everything she's lost.  
  
He would tell her that he wasn't the one to take it, but he can't -- and she wouldn't listen, anyway.  
  
The boy rarely speaks to him.  
  
He's silent fury, attacking without warning, fists and feet releasing a torrent of resentment and rage upon a helpless target that just happens to represent everything he despises. Sometimes that's all he does -- but not every time.  
  
Sometimes, he takes more from Spike than a bit of blood and bruises.  
  
Sometimes, he shreds his very dignity with the violation he inflicts.  
  
He hears the basement door open and tenses in expectation of pain -- but his sense of smell soon tells him that it won't be coming, not this time. It's not the Slayer, not the boy -- but his angel of mercy.  
  
Dawnie, his Little Bit -- the only contact he has in his existence anymore that makes it even slightly worth living.   
  
She slips down the stairs, almost silent, and he can hear her hesitation, knows she's warily looking behind her to be sure she's undetected by her sister. A moment later, the blindfold and gag are removed, and he's momentarily blessed with the restoration of his senses.  
  
Sorrowful blue eyes gaze down at him, shining with tears, before slim, warm arms envelop him in comfort.  
  
"Why?" he whispers at last in despairing desperation. "Why do they do it?"  
  
She draws back to look at him sadly, shaking her head and blinking back her own tears, unable to find an answer.  
  
"Because..."   
  
A cold voice speaks from the top of the stairs, and both freeze, glancing up with dread to see her sister standing there, taking in the pitiful scene with a frigid smile.  
  
"... you're just so damn pretty when you cry."


	2. Waiting

Somehow, he's survived ten years since that fateful day when he died -- for the second time -- to save the world.  
  
He's lost touch with almost everyone from Sunnyhell, only getting vague reports every now and then from Andrew, who still maintains enough of the crush he once had on Spike to keep him posted about what's going on in all of their lives.  
  
None of it seems to matter anymore.  
  
He survived the final battle with Wolfram and Hart, but that never felt like a victory -- not when all the others lost their lives in the fight.  
  
"There you are."  
  
The soft, familiar voice from behind him is casual... as if she only lost track of him for a few minutes, rather than a decade. Spike feels his throat close with emotion at the very sound, as he slowly turn to face her, eyes wide with wonder.  
  
"Andrew told me you were staying here," she explains with a self-conscious shrug, blue eyes shining with tears as she slowly closes the distance between them.  
  
He doesn't resent her, he's really glad to see her, but he can't help the reproachful remark.  
  
"It took you ten years to ask?"  
  
"He... made it sound like you didn't want to be found."  
  
"I didn't," he admits, shoulders sagging as he relents and moves toward her.  
  
"I thought so." She nods. Her jawline squares with determination, her eyes flashing fire so like her mother's. "I don't care."  
  
"Obviously."  
  
"I've been waiting for you to come around... thinking eventually you'd want to get in touch again, but... but I'm tired of waiting."  
  
She draws nearer, raising a hand to gently cup his cheek, closing her eyes as he closes his and leans instinctively into her touch. Her voice is low and husky as she makes a soft, vulnerable confession.  
  
"I feel like I've _always_ been waiting for you..."


	3. A Dangerous Affair

They both know that she can never find out.  
  
Years have passed since Buffy was with Spike -- years and dozens of life changes and relationships that should make it clear that her claim on the blond vampire is relinquished.  
  
Somehow, Dawn's sure she'd see it differently.  
  
For her part... Dawn's having the time of her life. She's waited for years for this to happen, never believing that it actually might.  
  
They meet in secret, talk on the phone in the middle of the night -- and desperately hope that Buffy never finds out about the dangerous affair in which they're engaging.


	4. Forgiven

It's the first time they've been alone since he came back.  
  
It hasn't been deliberate -- at least that's what he tells himself. It's just been that there always seems to be someone else around -- Buffy or the Scoobies or the countless Potentials that fill the house these days -- and neither of them has worked up the nerve to actually arrange to be alone together.  
  
He supposes that her current level of nerve might have something to do with the fact that he's chained to the wall at the moment.  
  
She's standing at the foot of the stairs, glaring at him with a cold smile on her lips.   
  
He doesn't know what to say -- couldn't speak if he did.  
  
The overwhelming weight of his shame keeps him silent.  
  
She slowly crosses the room to stand just out of his reach, her expression stony, her blue eyes cold and pale as ice.  
  
"I-I'm sorry," he manages to stammer out, eyes averted. Suddenly, he can't bring himself to look at her. "I... didn't mean for it to happen... and... I know there's no excuse, but..."  
  
"How could you just _take off_ without telling me you were leaving?"  
  
He's caught off guard. That wasn't the question he was expecting to hear from her lips. His mouth opens to respond, but he just shakes his head, lost for an answer. Finally, all he can bring himself to do is to whisper to simple, heartfelt words.  
  
"Forgive me."  
  
Her hard facade crumbles before him when he looks into her eyes, her stubborn lower lip beginning to tremble before she rolls her eyes at her own weakness and falls upon him, wrapping her arms around him and murmuring against his neck.  
  
"I already have."


	5. Playing Life

"What the hell is going on here?"  
  
"I was just leaving, Slayer, no need to..."  
  
"No, he wasn't. Spike, sit down."  
  
"No, _don't_ sit down. Get out."  
  
" _Sit down_. Buffy, we're just playing a game. He's not doing anything wrong."  
  
"Besides... sitting here in my living room like he _belongs_ here or something..."  
  
"Right. Like I said -- going now."  
  
"So what? Because you have a problem with Spike, I get to sit at home alone and bored all night? All he's doing is keeping me company and playing a game with me."  
  
"What _game_ have you been playing with my little sister, Spike?"  
  
"Hey! Easy, Slayer. Not the kind you're thinking of..."  
  
"We're playing _Life_ , Buffy."  
  
"... Life! _That's_ a laugh. Then, there's no point anyway. Spike automatically loses. He can _go home now_."  
  
"And you automatically fail. I guess that's why you've never bothered to play."  
  
"..."  
  
"I... I'm sorry, Buffy. I shouldn't have... I'm sorry..."  
  
"You shouldn't be. You're right."  
  
"Buffy, love..."  
  
"Just... go ahead and finish your game. I don't care."  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"Yes, Dawn?"  
  
"We could start over if you... wanna play?"


	6. Cheating

They haven’t been alone together in months – not since Buffy returned.  
  
Dawn isn’t stupid. She’s seen the way things have been going between her best friend the vampire, and her depressed, angry sister. She knows they’re sleeping together – and she knows that Buffy’s simply using him. She’s noticed the disgusted, dismissive way Buffy talks to him when anyone else is around – the occasional bruises that Spike can’t quite explain away.  
  
They’re playing cards in the living room when she decides to make her move – a last ditch effort to achieve her dream… and to save that dream from himself.  
  
She takes him by surprise, leaning forward and kissing him intently on the lips.  
  
His eyes go wide, stunned, and it’s a moment before he thinks to draw back, sputtering.  
  
“Bit… _no_! We can’t…”  
  
“Why?” she demands, round eyes searching his gaze. “Why not? It’s not cheating or anyting. It’s not like you’re taken.”  
  
He winces, and she almost regrets it -- _almost_.  
  
“You’re not,” she insists, her voice trembling as she hesitates, then adds, “And… you _deserve_ to be.”  
  
His face flushes and he looks away, shaking his head with a convulsive swallow. His voice is hoarse and thick with emotion as he tries to form an answer.  
  
“And… you deserve better.” He looks up at her, his expression solemn and intent. “I’m your friend, bit… and I love you… but… not like that. I’ll… always be here for you, but… this…” He waves a hand to vaguely indicate the entire situation. “… this… can’t happen.” He glances at the clock as he rises abruptly to his feet. “Slayer’ll get home in a few minutes. I… don’t think I’d better be here when she does.”  
  
He’s gone before she can find the breath to say goodbye.


	7. Whore

He never thought he’d get this desperate.  
  
The problem is – no one’s scared of him anymore.  
  
Word has spread about the blond vampire who’s all bark and no bite, and he’s finding it harder and harder to get money for blood by scaring people out of their wallets and such. He doesn’t want to, but he finds that he has no choice.  
  
Finally, he finds himself on his knees in a vampire brothel, sucking the wrist of some human more pathetic than himself… at least he tells himself that.  
  
He looks up in surprise when he smells a familiar scent. His eyes go wide with shocked dismay, and he scrambles to his feet, shoving the tiny, glaring brunette against the wall. She glares at him in defiance.  
  
“What are you doing here, bit? You’re too good for a place like this…”  
  
“Yeah, well, so are you,” she snaps back, eyes flashing indignant fire. “What are you doing here, Spike? You’re not some kind of… some kind of…”  
  
“Of what?” he cuts her off, his voice trembling with a mixture of defiance and shame. “Some kind of… of _whore_?”  
  
Her anger fades, and she stares at him with concerned dismay. “Yeah,” she whispers. After a moment she adds, “You’re not.”  
  
He swallows hard, looking away. He can’t face her, not knowing how low he’s sunk.  
  
“Come on,” she murmurs. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll find another way.”  
  
He nods, and follows her meekly out of the brothel, embarrassed that she found him – but secretly grateful.


	8. Hunting

She hears the crack of a twig on the ground behind her, and hurries her pace. Her mouth is dry and her hands trembling, and she wonders why she's stayed out so late at all.  
  
 _Of all people, you know better... stupid, stupid..._  
  
She screams as she feels a strong hand on her arm, spinning her around and pushing her up against the trunk of a nearby tree. A hand closes over her mouth, holding her still and silent, and she stares up through round blue eyes.  
  
Spike is glaring down at her, fury in his gaze.  
  
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
She pulls free of his hand over her mouth in irritation. "What are _you_ doing? You scared me to death!"  
  
"Yeah, well, something else might have... something else'd you to death!" he reminds her. "There's things out here in the dark... _hunting_... and they're hunting for just a little morsel like you, Bit."  
  
She glares up at him, determined not to show fear -- but she can't suppress the shiver that shakes through her shoulders at his words. His eyes and his voice soften with sympathy at the reaction she can't hide, and he sighs, releasing her and taking a step back.  
  
"Come on, bit," he says gently. "Let's get you home."


	9. Don't Tell

“Really. This is ridiculous. I’m nineteen years old, Spike. It’s nobody’s business but ours.”  
  
“Slayer won’t see it that way, I’d wager.”  
  
“She doesn’t ever have to know.”  
  
“What – you think she won’t figure it out?”  
  
“Please! Buffy is blind to anything that doesn’t directly involve her. She’ll never even notice.”  
  
“I bloody well hope not. I’m gonna have a hell of a time just dealing with the fact that she’s just now finding out I’m not a pile of ash buried at the bottom of Hellmouth Crater. If she found out I’m also shaggin’ her little sis… who’s known that I’m not dust for the past couple of years… Yeah. She’s gonna dust me as it is. She doesn’t need a reason to torture me first.”  
  
“Okay, okay. I get it. Don’t worry. It’s going to be just fine.”  
  
“All right. Just… don’t tell.”


End file.
